


New Recruits, New Friends, Same Old Trouble

by completelyhopeless



Series: Detective Grayson and Forensic Batgirl Case Two [2]
Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, Case Fic, F/M, Gen, Pre-Relationship, reference to possible bruce/selina, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:15:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3329297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gotham's police force has a few new recruits. Dick has issues with Bard and Gage, and Barbara might just as well, but she may have made friends and found a partner for Dick in Amy. Dick, though, has his hands full with a friend of his own named Tim, who just might be a witness in his latest murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Recruits, New Friends, Same Old Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> I had started this before I got really sick, but a lot of it was written while I was, so I may have made some questionable choices in finishing the rest of it.
> 
> I figured it was time there were other cops around. I also figured one of them should be Amy because I really liked her in the comics (other than that OOC decision to fire Dick) and while it's awkward to add in some others that were love interests for Babs, they're still cops. And not necessarily bad guys. (They just don't get Babs, that's all.)
> 
> And of course, I still don't know enough about Tim, but he would be different in this universe anyway. So... Here goes nothing.

* * *

“If it was Tim, wouldn't he have come to you by now?”

Dick considered that for a moment before he shrugged. “I'd like to think so, but having Damian around has made things a bit awkward. It's not that I don't like Tim, a lot, and he has this very strange fascination with me that sometimes borders on scary, but then if Tim is scary, then Damian is downright terrifying. That kid acts like he _owns_ me sometimes, which is...”

“Creepy?”

“Yes,” Dick admitted. He sighed. “It's just because I'm all he thinks he has. Choosing the blood debt he thinks he owes me over his family cost him, and from what we know of the way he was raised, he never had much in the way of love or affection before now anyway.”

“I know. It's part of why you adopting him formally is a bad idea,” Barbara agreed. She wasn't shy about speaking her mind on that subject, and he'd been as grateful for it as he was frustrated. He didn't know that he felt capable of raising Damian full-time, but he _did_ know it stung to be told he wasn't. “You're getting sidetracked. Even with this situation with Damian, Tim still knows you and trusts you enough to come to you with any information he might have.”

“Yes, but we both know that Bruce doesn't,” Dick reminded her, and she grimaced. Bruce had held more back in all the years Dick had known him than he'd ever told, and he was like that with everyone. “If Tim was working for Bruce, he might have gone to Bruce first and Bruce would not want him telling me. He's territorial about his cases, always has been, even with me when I was his partner in the agency. If he was off the wagon, he'd make sure I was kept out of the ones he was working. I did most of my stuff on my own because he refused to let me in. Even when he was sober, we didn't work together that much. He liked to do it all on his own. I think as much as he needed me he resented it. I was a reminder of how far he'd fallen, after all.”

“Dick,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “You shouldn't think of yourself that way. I don't care if that might be how Bruce sees it. He'd be wrong. My dad is right—he didn't deserve you.”

“There were kids with worse childhoods,” Dick said. He didn't want pity. He never had. He just wanted to move on, keep going. That was better than dwelling on any of it. “I don't like thinking about what my life would have been like if I I hadn't been raised by Bruce after my parents and my aunt died.”

“Dad told me you almost found out firsthand.”

Dick grimaced. He had, and Gordon _did_ know about that, but he hadn't thought that the commissioner would go around telling Babs about it. That was almost ancient history by now anyway. “Well, that orphanage was worse than most, but I was fine. I saw it for what it was quickly enough, and with Jason's help, I was able to get the cops what they needed to stop it. That was worth a few nights of discomfort.”

“Discomfort?”

“Hey, I throw knives when I get startled in my sleep. If anyone had tried anything with me, they'd have regretted it,” he said, shrugging. “No, the food was awful and the beds were like rocks—honestly, the floor was more comfortable. And it smelled. Other than that, it was tolerable. Really.”

“You are such a mess.”

He smiled. He knew he shouldn't push it, but he was going to anyway. “You want to take me home and clean me up?”

She rolled her eyes. “You had to spoil the moment, didn't you?”

He snorted. “You're crazy if you think _that_ was spoiling it. The way I see it, it would only have gotten better from here. As it is—I guess I'd better see if those fibers match this shirt.”

She looked at the picture from his phone. He barely remembered it, didn't remember why Tim had taken it, but he was wearing the shirt there. “You gave him that, didn't you?”

“Yeah. I recognized that yellow—not sure many people make it, and even less wear it,” Dick said with a rueful smile. “It was the only one they had left, and Tim loved it.”

“Let me guess—it was because you gave it to him,” Barbara said, shaking her head, and Dick gave her a look. “Please. Like anyone would wear that if they didn't care about the person who gave it to them. Tim has so much hero worship for you that I think he'd wear anything you gave him until it was falling apart into rags. Besides, I recognize the bad fashion sense.”

“Hey! I do not dress that badly,” Dick objected. He looked down at his shirt. “What's wrong with this? It's clean, it fits, it matches—”

“It doesn't match,” she said, reaching over to tug on the t-shirt, pulling it so he could see it didn't match the button up shirt he had over it and making him wish she was doing a lot more than just pointing out bad fashion sense, “and if Dad didn't let your work attire slip because the department's short-handed and you're one of his best—”

 _“One_ of his best?”

“I'm _not_ calling you his best detective. Don't get any ideas about that.”

“Because that's your title or because of the new guy?”

She blinked. “What new guy?”

Like he would buy _that_ one. He'd been in the squadroom. He'd been in the locker room. He knew the talk. It wasn't like before, not Kowlinski's warped humor, no new rumors or stories about the Batgirl down in her lab, but that didn't mean she wasn't being talked about, that the new recruits hadn't met her. Even Commissioner Gordon had said enough to make Dick think he wanted one of them for a son-in-law. 

“Bard, transfer in from Chicago. Your dad's old hometown. I think he likes the guy a lot. Or there's the one they're calling 'St. Nick.' Nick Gage. Take your pick,” Dick said. He picked up his drink. “I'm going to go find Tim.”

* * *

“Grayson, got a minute?”

“Not really,” Dick said, opening the bottom drawer to his desk and frowning when he didn't see half of what should be in there. If Kowlinski was still around, he'd have pegged that whole gang of his for taking or switching his desk with someone else's, but he hadn't figured that the new guys would do that. They hadn't been here long enough for any of them to feel comfortable with that kind of thing.

At least—Dick wouldn't have been, and he was from the circus. He should have been the first to jump on the prank bandwagon.

“Well, I hope you can make time,” Gage said, leaning against Dick's desk. “Gordon has been sending us out with beat officers, trying to help us find our way around the city, but we need more than that. The city needs more than that.”

“Think you can show us the ropes on one of your investigations?” Bard asked, and Dick slammed the drawer shut.

“Are you kidding me? You're detectives. Figure out the city on your own time. I didn't get babysat when I got here—I was working with a bunch of dirty cops who made my life hell, but I found a way to do my job. I'm not doing yours for you. Now if you will excuse me, I have a witness to find, and I am not in the mood for more departmental 'bonding,'” Dick said, knocking over the pile of paperwork on his desk by accident. “Great. Just what I needed right now.”

“Here,” Gage said, picking up a file and holding it out to Dick. “You worked the Isley killings?”

Dick frowned. “No... That was before my time. Hell, I think Bruce might have been the one that—I don't know why that was on my desk. I know I didn't check that out. That's weird. You know what? If you want to familiarize yourself with somewhere, go find the file room.”

“Grumpy much, Grayson?”

“Don't mind him. He hasn't slept in days and he's worried about a friend of his,” Babs said, coming around the partition. “You forgot this in my lab, Cranky Wonder. I figured you'd need it.”

He laughed as he reached for his phone. “Yeah, well, maybe that was on purpose.”

“You planning an ambush, then?” She asked, amused. “I thought you just took out the GPS chip when you wanted that.”

“Oh, but then he knows I'm trying to ditch him,” Dick said with a smile. “When you said I'd left something down there, I'd thought maybe it was the stuff from my desk drawer. Or... We didn't discuss the Isley case, did we?”

She shook her head. “No. You've been busy, and when you're not... You're playing big brother.”

He didn't think that was what she was going to say at all, but he was aware that they had an audience. A part of him did want to call her on it, wanted to make a “mark” in front of the other detectives, but Babs was her own woman. Not his. She kept making that clear. He took the phone from her and shoved it in the top right drawer of the desk.

“Chinese next time?”

“Cantonese. And not from that place near Crime Alley. You know that place is a health code violation waiting to happen.”

“So is everything we eat.”

“Not everything.”

“Says you, but you still won't cook for me.” He saw her smile and tried not to laugh. “You know what, Babs? Maybe you can help these fine detectives. See, for some reason, they can't seem to read a map. Or get the hint that I work alone.”

She looked over at the new detectives. “I don't know. They're kind of cute, but why do I always get stuck babysitting?”

“I set a bad precedent?”

“Not you. You would never.”

He laughed. “I did, I do, and I have since I was nine. Or was it ten? Either way, I have to find a certain stalker with a camera.”

“If you see Alfred—”

“I'll bring you coffee. Promise.”

She smiled. “And people actually believe you're not my willing slave, Grayson. What is this world coming to?”

“I have no idea.”

* * *

“You're Commissioner Gordon's daughter?”

“That surprises you?” Barbara asked, looking from Jason Bard to Nick Gage. “Were you thinking that wheelchairs were hereditary or was it the Batgirl rumors that threw you off?”

Both men coughed, looking uncomfortable. She folded her arms over her chest and waited. She had heard about them from her father. He'd been glad to get good officers without blemishes on their records to join the department, and she was glad he had, but if they—or her father—thought this was the way to go about making friends in the department and bonding with Dick, they were wrong.

A new suspicion took over in her gut and she almost rejected it out of hand, but she wasn't the commissioner's daughter for nothing. She could investigate or she could call them on it here and now. She could be getting on the wrong side of two cops that had done nothing wrong, or she could be setting herself up for a nasty couple of months if not longer.

“You know, if you're going to act for I.A, you should be with them officially. Snitches may be what half the force lives on, but no one likes when their own turns on them.”

“Excuse me?” Bard said. “What gives you the right or even the _idea_ that we're working for internal affairs?”

“Oh, let's see—almost the whole department got fired not long ago for corruption? Who better than to work I.A. undercover than a couple of new transfers that should be impartial and have every reason for making new friends besides spying on them?” Barbara asked, shaking her head. “Look, I don't care if that's why you're here. Internal Affairs exists for a reason. I understand that reason better than most. I'm also going to tell you here and now—Back off Grayson. You're dead wrong about him. He was just about the _only_ good cop left in Gotham after my father was forced out of office. There's a reason Dick's still here when everyone else is gone.”

Gage held up his hands in surrender. “Look, I don't know what we just stepped in—besides a mine field—but I transferred here because I was getting damn sick of all the hero cop talk. I wanted a change of pace, and I knew Gotham was one hell of a place to get it, but I'm not out to get your... friend or anything.”

“Neither am I. For the record, it was your dad's idea that we learn the ropes of this place from Grayson. He told us that we'd do better with him than Bullock and with Montoya on leave, Grayson was the only option,” Bard said. He shrugged. “I was a bit skeptical, but apparently Grayson was some kind of child prodigy and solving cases back when I was using spitballs to tell the girl in my geography class that I liked her.”

Barbara found herself smiling at that image. She thought she could picture Bard doing it, too.

“Is it true?” Gage asked. “All that stuff your father says about Grayson—you'd think this guy was some kind of urban legend or something, but I haven't so much as seen a mention of him in the police blotter.”

“It's not like any of Kowlinski's guys would have let Dick get credit for the cases even if he was the one to solve them,” Barbara said. She shrugged. “I'm not sure what my father has told you about Dick. He told me that Dad was talking up both of you, so I'm guessing you all got played.”

“We did, huh?” Gage looked at Bard before turning back to her again. “Are you telling us that your father was _intentionally_ setting us all up to be rivals?”

“It almost sounds like it. I'd like to think my father was smarter than to use a lame tactic to get Dick to take on a partner, and that's what asking for him to show you around town would be—lame—but then again, I'm not sure trying to encourage better performance from you by rivalry is a good idea, either. With so many male egos getting inflated like that, Gotham might just explode.”

“Sounds like I might have gotten here just in time, then.”

* * *

“Doctor Gordon?”

Barbara looked up from the mass spectrometer and over to her doorway. Normally that space was taken up by one detective in particular, since the others still avoided coming down to her lab. Her father didn't do it all that often, either, but then this wasn't the most wheelchair accessible area in the building.

The other woman took that as an invitation to enter. She seemed pretty confident, though Barbara didn't know if the uniform helped that or not. “I'm Amy Rohrbach. We didn't get a chance to meet earlier.”

Barbara nodded. “I'm Barbara. I know that the Batgirl name has stuck and is still popular, but please don't use it.”

“I won't if you call me Amy.”

“I think I can do that,” Barbara said with a smile. “Did you need something? I didn't think that you had been assigned a case yet.”

“Not yet. Your dad did threaten to do that first thing in the morning, though.”

“You're lucky. Dick usually gets his calls at night. In the rain.”

“So much for being the Golden Boy, huh?” Amy asked, amused, and Barbara ended up frowning. She didn't understand all this talk of Dick being her father's favorite. He'd never said anything like that to her— _or_ to Dick—and she found it strange that everyone else was getting that impression.

“I think that's an exaggeration. My father has known Dick since he was a kid, but that's because Dick's guardian used to work here. I never met him until a few weeks ago, so it's not like our families were close,” Barbara shook her head. “I don't understand where this rumor came from. Dad respects Dick, but he is not the department's Golden Boy.”

“He seems to have some stiff competition for that,” Amy agreed, leaning against the counter. “Have you seen the records on Gage and Bard?”

“Are you intimidated?”

Amy snorted. “Of a bunch of guys who had it easy? Not really. I know they've got impressive records, but I was a cop in Blüdhaven. Most of my department is _still_ corrupt. I figured if Gotham can clean up their act, there might even be hope for my hometown.”

“This is pretty new,” Barbara told her. “Right now, we're still in a holding pattern at best. You'll be overworked, underpaid, and unappreciated. Well, no, I shouldn't say that. Dad values everyone who serves under him. He just... won't always be able to show it.”

“I'm not in this for gratitude.”

“Good. Because it could cost you your life.”

“I heard about Montoya.”

And she wasn't intimidated. Good. Barbara didn't think she had to worry about this one being chewed up and spit out, not like she had Dick. She wasn't sure what to think about the others upstairs. She hoped they'd make it, but she couldn't be sure, just like she wasn't entirely sure they weren't I.A. 

Barbara had a feeling if Dick was willing to take on any kind of partner, it would be Amy. She understood working with corrupt partners and having to fight the system she was supposed to be a part of just like Dick did.

“Is there anything else you wanted to ask me about while you're down here? I don't usually give tours of the lab—there's not that much to see—and I don't have many guests—Dick is actually one of the only cops willing to spend much time down here, which is actually fine by me—but if there is something I can help with while I wait for the results of this test?”

Amy shrugged. “Maybe a few things. Is that really bird food in your window?”

“Bat food. Dick's idea of a joke.”

“Someone has a warped sense of humor.”

Barbara shrugged. “He makes up for it by bringing me the best coffee on the planet and helping me break my diet every chance he gets.”

“Sounds like quite a catch.”

“I'd give you his number, but he left his phone in his desk drawer.”

Amy shook her head. “I'm happily married. I have two kids and a great husband that builds me anything I ask him to. I don't need another man in my life, just a place where my family can't be used as leverage.”

Barbara almost winced. Then she composed herself. “You know, if you're going to stay in Gotham, there's some place you should know about. And I could use a lunch break. Feel like joining me?”

“Sure.”

* * *

“Tim.”

The boy stopped, stiffening at the sound of his name. That was rather suspicious. The kid was acting way too guilty for Dick's liking. He'd actually hoped that he was wrong about the shirt, that it wasn't Tim's. Sure, the color was bad, and most people wouldn't wear it, but that didn't mean it had to be Tim's.

Only now it seemed it did.

“Dick,” Tim said, turning with a smile that was fake and forced. “You're here. You're really here. And not with the Damian kid for once. And you're... Oh. You're wearing the badge. You're here on a case. Hey, do you need my help? Because I could—”

“Tim,” Dick said, and the kid stopped in a way that made Dick think of Maroni and what the guy had said about his ability to control others. He shook it off. He didn't believe that, and even if it was true, Tim wasn't one of the kids that had been programmed to be an assassin. “Are you working a case with Bruce right now?”

“No. I'm not,” Tim answered immediately. “He's not here. You know that, right? I think he's with Selina again. They might even be out of the country. All I know is he hasn't wanted me for a case for months. Do... Do you want me for a case, Dick? I could help you. I know I could.”

Dick blinked. He hadn't heard that Bruce was gone. Selina hadn't told him they were back together, either, but then she didn't discuss her love life with him, and Dick figured he was better off not knowing when their off and on relationship was on most of the time, even if it sometimes helped to be prepared for the fallout of it being off again.

“I think you're already involved in one my cases,” Dick admitted, hating the idea. He folded his arms over his chest and looked down at Tim. “Where's that yellow sweatshirt I gave you?”

“Um... In the wash? I don't know. You know we have a maid that cleans up stuff like that.”

“And I know you are a bad liar,” Dick said. “Where were you two nights ago? The whole night, not just part of it.”

Tim frowned, stopping to think. “I had dinner at seven. I went out to take some pictures around eight. I came home at nine-thirty. I read some and went to bed. It was really boring. It always is when Bruce is out of town.”

“Tim,” Dick began, shaking his head. “I really don't like it when you lie to me. I always know. And I hate it. Where were you really at? It wasn't taking pictures. I know it wasn't.”

The boy grimaced. “I... There was a girl.”

Dick swore he felt like hitting himself right in the face. Of course there was a girl. Even if Dick would rather Tim was too young for girls and he would much rather leave this up to Tim's parents to deal with, he knew he couldn't. The Drakes might love their son, but they barely knew him. He didn't think that they had had any idea what Tim did with Bruce.  
“What girl?”

“Stephanie. I met her at the shelter. We... We're friends. We hang out sometimes. She's funny. She likes me.”

“And you gave her the sweater.”

“Yes,” Tim said, hanging his head. “Dick, I'm sorry. I know you gave it to me, and I didn't just give it away like it was nothing. It was just... she was cold and I wanted to help and—”

“I am not mad at you,” Dick said, putting his hands on Tim's shoulders. “I just need you to tell me where Stephanie is right now.”

“Is she in trouble?”

Dick wanted to reassure him, wanted to say no, and he almost lied and did, but he couldn't. “She might be. I'm not sure yet. She may have seen something she shouldn't have.”

Tim took his hand. “I'll take you to her.”


End file.
